Serpent's Loyalty
by AriannaMalfoy
Summary: Lucius contracts the smallpox while in Azkaban, leaving Draco to deal with his father's health and the return of the Dark Lord. When Draco gets lost on Knockturn Alley with a price on his head, Lucius and Severus must join forces to find him. Chapter 17!
1. Azkaban

Lucius Malfoy tossed and turned in his sleep, a low moan escaping his lips. He had contracted the smallpox somewhere in the damp, dark recesses of Azkaban prison; now he was deathly ill, delirious from the raging fever that had set in the previous day. Healers had been sent, but the fever held on through their best efforts to contain it.

He was vaguely aware of the presence of his wife and occasionally his son. Most of the guards stayed away from his cell, afraid of the disease that in the Wizarding world there was no cure for. Narcissa sat by her husband's bedside whenever the Healers would allow it. She was not sure why she did it; every particle of her Slytherin mind screamed that she would bring the disease home to their son and they would all die. Still, something else deep down inside her would not allow her to leave the man she loved to die. And she did love him, whatever anyone else said. She did not show it in public or outside the privacy of their chambers in the Manor but it was true. Lucius was her husband and she would not abandon him to the dubious mercy of the guards and the other prisoners.

Draco was, for the most part, kept away from his father and from Azkaban altogether. No matter what the disease, it always carried off the children faster than the adults. And if it was slowly eating away at Lucius, a fully-grown, powerful wizard, God only knew what it would do to his fifteen- year-old son.

Voldemort was not overly concerned with his fallen deputy's fate. Despite the fact that Lucius had been slated as Voldemort's right-hand man this time around, the Dark Lord had left the Malfoy Lord to die. When Lucius cried out from the pain of the Mark's burning, Narcissa could only wonder how long it would be before Voldemort put a price on her husband's head for his consistent failure to report for meetings, no matter how sick he was. The Dark Lord was not a forgiving man, if he could even be considered human anymore. The other prisoners had escaped, therefore Lucius, by Voldemort's standards, should have gone with them, regardless of the fact that he could not even stand on his own, much less manage a dangerous escape from prison.


	2. Back home

Disclaimer: My name is not J.K. Rowling. I merely play in the wonderful world she has created.

I just realized that I forgot the disclaimer last chapter. Here it is for anyone who's actually looking; please don't sue me for my absentmindedness. Anyway, here's the next chapter.

It was two days before the fever broke. Narcissa was, as usual, sitting by Lucius' bed when she heard a shift and creak. Lucius looked at her with eyes that, while dull with pain, were now rational. " 'Cissa," he murmured softly before lapsing back into near unconsciousness. He was sane, and for that much Narcissa was grateful. A high fever could often drive a person to near insensibility with little chance for recovery.

It was another day before the rash started to spread. At this point, the Healers absolutely banned Lucius' family from the cell. This phase of the disease was the most contagious where the bacteria could be spread through touch or any form of contact at all, really. Narcissa was left to pace worriedly in her rooms and try to hide her concern from Draco.

Draco would have been worried if he had had the time for such things. Despite Lucius' illness, the Ministry was building the case against him. Draco, with the speed and efficiency born of desperation, was doing his best to block their attempts at searching the Manor until he could sell, hide, or destroy all evidence of the family's involvement with the Dark Arts. As it was, he had used up nearly all of his excuses and was only now getting to some of the most dangerous things, items that could not be found anywhere in these days and absolutely **could not** fall into the hands of the Ministry, the Dark Lord, or the assorted street wizards that populated Knockturn Alley. Draco, mostly because of his background, could handle these items without harm, but others could not.

Draco stopped for a moment when he heard his mother pacing once again in her room. She had said nothing to him about his father in the past week, but her worried pacing and near-constant frown was enough to tell Draco that Lucius was terribly ill, perhaps on the brink of death. In the wizarding world, smallpox often killed those who got it, as it was more virulent to Wizards than to Muggles. And in the time it took for Lucius to recover, Voldemort might very well declare him outcast. It was not a good place to be. Draco shuddered and went back to work. Ministry first, then the Dark Lord.

To Lanolin: As you can see, I'm continuing. I was just getting started in the last chapter; I hadn't really finished it yet. Glad you like the idea!


	3. Fight and Flight

Disclaimer: Not my characters, not my places, not my world, although I can wish.  
  
Thanks for all the reviews and suggestions! Here's the next chapter. Action!  
As though Draco possessed the Second Sight, Voldemort's messenger arrived the next day. Narcissa started to rise to take the call but Draco laid a hand on her arm.  
"I'll do it," he said quietly. "I'm the heir and I'm the only one they'll respect at this point." He went turned to the house-elf who had announced the visitors. "Show him in."  
The messenger turned out to be Avery, one of the Dark Lord's lesser servants whose power was on the rise since Lucius' arrest. "Master Malfoy," he acknowledged. "My Lord asked that this be presented to your father." He held out a scroll sealed with the Dark Mark.  
"I stand in his stead," Draco replied coldly. He took the parchment cautiously, ready to incinerate it if he felt even the slightest trace of anything magical about it. He wouldn't have put it beyond Voldemort to put some curse on the parchment to inflict his revenge not only on Lucius but on the entire Malfoy family. He felt nothing as he broke the seal and read the missive.  
Avery watched closely. He knew what it was that he had just delivered, yet from Draco's expression it might have been a note about the date of some minor function. No emotion showed on the boy's face; he looked up and for a moment Avery could almost believe that Lucius had returned and was standing in front of him.  
"You know what this means," Avery said. He struggled not to cringe under the silver gaze as he would have had it been the Lord of Malfoy Manor and not his fifteen-year-old son. People were not joking when they said that Draco was the spitting image of his father.  
"I thought that being declared outcast carried an automatic death sentence?" Avery smiled sadistically.  
"Ah yes. Now we get down to the point of this visit. Avada Kedavra!" Draco was ready for him. He ducked and came up under Avery, knocking him out with a well-placed punch. He really hated using his fists as weapons, but sometimes it was the only way.  
Narcissa came up behind him, pressing something into his hands. "Your father is in danger. I need you to go to Azkaban right now; don't stop until you get to his cell. I'll have this taken care of and come as quickly as possible. Go!" Draco felt the jerk of a Portkey and disappeared in a whirl of color.  
He landed just outside Azkaban. He hurried inside, past the body of the warden. Death Eaters had been here and were probably still here. Father's cell was on the fourth floor; he had to get there before it was too late. He had a plan in mind, but if Lucius was killed it could not be used.  
He burst into the fourth floor hallway to find Death Eaters grouped around the cell trying to break through a flickering silver shield around the door. One of them turned to stun him; Draco shielded and kept going. For about two seconds he wondered if the Ministry would punish him for the use of magic over the summer, then remembered that the shields around the prison were too strong for the Ministry's tracking magic to penetrate.  
The Healers had dropped their shield now and joined in the fight. Two of the Death Eaters, however, were still concentrating on the cell's occupant. The Healer within was hard-pressed and finally fell with a strangled cry. Draco watched in horror as a green streak of light arced toward his father. The Death Eaters turned away, confident of their aim and target. and the spell hit the cot as Lucius rolled sideways at the last minute. The Death Eaters did not notice, disappearing with a "crack!" As far as they knew, Lucius was dead. Draco looked around. The Healers were both unconscious and the Death Eaters had either killed or stunned all of the prison guards.  
There was a "pop" as Narcissa Malfoy appeared. The wards must have been broken through at some point, Draco realized. Narcissa looked fearfully at her husband's still form. "He's not-"  
"No. But we have to move quickly," Draco replied. He unlocked the door of the cell and knelt down next to his father. "Dad, can you stand?" Lucius winced and shook his head. "Mum, get Dad out of here. I'll come when I'm done here." Narcissa nodded. She touched Lucius' shoulder; both of them disappeared with another crack. Draco was already moving. He had work to do. 


	4. Death and Deceit

Disclaimer: See the other chapters.

Draco was gone from Azkaban as quickly as he had come. He was not, however, headed back home. Instead he used the now slightly modified Portkey to get to the Scottish city of Glasgow. He wandered down a back alley, looking for what he was after. He needed a replacement body for that of his father, and a drifter that no one would miss would suit his purposes perfectly.

He found one a few minutes later. The man was dead before he knew what had hit him and gone along with his murderer in a few seconds. Now came the hard part; Draco had to make sure that no one, Ministry or otherwise, questioned the identity of the man on the cot. Still, the man was about the right height and build. With a few modifications… one of the prison guards groaned. "Stupefy," Draco muttered distractedly, pointing his wand at the wizard. He had little time to do this in before the Ministry officials got wind of the breach and came here; he certainly did not need any complications.

Finally the spell was complete. Draco looked over the body one last time. If he didn't know better he would say that it was his father laying there; if he couldn't tell the difference there was little chance that anyone else would be able to. He fixed the Portkey yet again and then set down the Healer's wand that he had been using. Then he was gone to Malfoy Manor.

Narcissa was already bent over Lucius' bed when Draco arrived. "Can you take over here?" she asked. Draco nodded. The Ministry officials would be arriving soon to inform the family of Lucius' "death". Narcissa had to appear appropriately shocked and unprepared.

Draco took a good look at his father after his mother had left. Lucius looked as though he were in agony, with the rash so characteristic of smallpox covering his face and arms. He was in the dangerous phase of the disease now, at least for wizards. He needed a professional Healer immediately if he was to survive.

Downstairs, the doorbell rang. It was Ministry officials, their faces somber. A House Elf showed them in; Narcissa waited with her customary haughty expression.

"Mrs. Malfoy?"

"Yes?"

"I – that is the Ministry – regret to inform you that your husband was murdered this morning in what appears to have been a Death Eater raid on Azkaban." Narcissa stared at them for one long moment and then closed her eyes. When she turned back to them her eyes were wet. She had always been able to summon tears when it was necessary and now it was helping her to conceal what she knew. She appeared the very picture of the shocked, grieving widow.

"I- I see." Her voice was somewhat shaky.

"We wish to speak with your son, Draco, as soon as possible. Is he at home?"

"Yes- yes, I'll ask him to come down." She rose shakily from her seat and went to one of the bell pulls. A House Elf came running. "Inform Draco that his presence is required in the parlor."

Draco came down the stairs slowly, gauging the situation before he spoke.

"Mr. Malfoy, I assume the Elf told you about-?"

"Yes. You wished to speak with me?"

"Merely to tell you that in light of your father's death and the circumstances, the Ministry has decided to drop the investigation into his affairs. Minister Bones cautions you not to follow in his footsteps. Good day, Mrs. Malfoy, Mr. Malfoy." With that the men were gone. Draco waited until he was sure that they had left before letting out a relieved sigh. The dropping of the investigation was more than he could have hoped for.

He turned to the fireplace. "I'll be gone for a few minutes," he said. Narcissa frowned. "Dad needs a Healer, one who can be trusted to keep his mouth shut about who he treats." With that he was gone in a burst of green flames.


	5. Complications

Disclaimer: Nothing that you recognize from the Harry Potter books is mine.  
  
The private Healer that Draco went to was one of those faithful men who will gladly serve the same family all of his life and ensure that his family does the same through many generations. This particular family had been serving the Malfoys for the last two centuries and would most likely continue to do so for the next two. Still, it was a bit of a shock for the Healer, Peveral by name, to see Draco come tumbling out of the fireplace.  
  
"Master Malfoy, is something-?"  
  
"I require your services immediately at the Manor. You will see why when we get there," Draco said. "And - do not tell anyone where you are going." Peveral's eyes widened but he gathered his things. He knew better than to argue with a Malfoy. He watched Draco disappear back through the fire and then stepped forward himself, wondering apprehensively what was wrong that the Malfoy heir had ordered him to keep quiet. He sighed; he would keep his silence but he did wish he could have some warning before these things happened.  
  
He arrived to find himself in Lord Malfoy's bedchamber with the man himself sleeping not too far away. This, then, was the reason for Draco's urgency. Peveral shook his head and bent over Lucius, surveying him with a clinical eye. The Healer began swearing lowly a moment later.  
  
"Why wasn't I summoned immediately?" he asked Draco, rummaging in his bag for the things he would need.  
  
"The Ministry wouldn't hear of it, paranoid fools that they are. Why?"  
  
"I don't know if your father ever told you, but he happens to have a rather severe allergy to one of the ingredients in the regular potions used to treat this disease. If I had been called, he would have been out of that bed days ago. As it is it will be another week before he even recovers from this accursed fever!"  
  
Draco's face went rigid. "Damn," he muttered. "Will you be able to help him?" Peveral hesitated, looked at Lucius, and then nodded.  
  
"If he's lived this long he'll make it the rest of the way. I'll need to return to my office for a few seconds though. I need certain things. If I may?" Draco nodded.  
  
"Just remember, not a word to anyone else. As far as the Ministry is concerned, my father is dead. It must stay that way until he recovers." Peveral nodded and was gone. Draco waited, dreading having to tell his mother about this latest development.  
  
Peveral returned a few minutes later. He immediately bent over Lucius again, this time pulling the cork out of some kind of potion and getting to work treating the ailing Malfoy Lord. He turned to Draco. "You should go downstairs to your mother. She may come up if she wishes." He saw the reluctance with which Draco left the room. "He will recover, young Master. Your father is a strong wizard. If anyone could get through this it will be him," he said gently. Draco allowed relief to flicker across his face before he turned and left. Peveral waited until the young man was out of earshot before he turned back to Lucius. "You hear me? I've just told your son that you'll recover. Don't make a liar out of me."  
  
Thanks for the review, Kirixchi! Now for the rest of you - Review! Reviews are like chocolate: absolutely necessary for survival! 


	6. Long, Anxious Nights

Disclaimer: Not mine  
  
Draco was met outside his father's room by his mother. "What did you do with Avery?" he asked. He did not want to be questioned on his father's condition just now.  
  
"He's in the dungeons, still unconscious. Why?"  
  
"I think I have an idea. One that should put us back in the Ministry's good graces. You can go in and see Dad, Peveral's there with him." Narcissa looked after her son as he walked away and disappeared down the steps. He was more like his father than she had ever realized. She only hoped that he would not have to be for much longer.  
  
Draco found Avery chained to the wall in the dungeon as his mother had said he would be. The man had woken by now and stared sullenly at the Malfoy heir. Draco could only imagine how embarrassing it would be for Avery to have to admit that a boy knocked him out for a good two hours. Now Draco just had to decide which side to turn him over to. On the one side, Voldemort would want him back, but not so badly that he would allow Draco to enter the fold when the time came. That left the Ministry or the Order. The Order was the important one at the moment, since they were the most hell-bent on seeing Draco come crashing down just as his father had. There were other reasons, but they were back up in case Draco couldn't handle things on his own. Then there was the matter of what would happen to Lucius once he recovered.  
  
Lucius Malfoy was not the sort to sit around and twiddle his thumbs while the war was going on. Draco could see only one possible route to avoid that and the Order was essential to that route. He would have to contact either Dumbledore or McGonagall in that case. He knew that Dumbledore, with his soft spot for children, would not hesitate to help Draco given the situation, and that would open whole new avenues.  
  
"So, Master Malfoy, what do you plan on doing to me?" Avery called out. He had watched Draco contemplate in silence for a full five minutes and was just a little perplexed as to what the boy could possibly be thinking about. Draco said nothing, merely turned and walked out, shutting the door with a clang and locking it.  
  
It was only when Draco got to the upper floors that he realized that his plans would have to wait. To the rest of the wizarding world, his father had just died. It would seem strange indeed if the family of the 'deceased' did not spend the next few days in mourning, as was customary among the old Slytherin families. He sighed and put a hand to his head, rubbing his temples. Now he knew why his father did not like to be disturbed in the evenings. All of this planning was quite exhausting, especially after a day like this one.  
  
Lucius spent the next few days in between consciousness and oblivion. One minute he would be perfectly lucid and aware and the next he would be gone again to the feverish delirium that made this disease so dangerous. Peveral did all he could, telling his assistants at his office that he had important business to tend to and that they should take care of the business themselves for the next few weeks. The best he could do now was to make sure that Lucius got all the rest he could take and pray that he recovered 


	7. Tense Meetings

Disclaimer: If I were the owner of all this, I would be rich. Sadly I am not, so I will have to suffer.  
  
Ok, I am really sorry that I haven't updated in so long, but what with one thing and another, I have had zero time to get this typed and uploaded onto ff.net. Thanks to everybody who reviewed!  
  
Draco had spent a long time pondering how to tell Dumbledore that, in essence, he had a Death Eater sitting in his dungeon and could the Order come and get him? He decided in the end that he would simply have to use the approach he had always found most useful, that of the mature young adult simply asking a favor. It was best if they did not look on him as an incompetent youth who would be easy to push aside; he was, after all, acting as the Lord of Malfoy Manor for the time being. If anyone perceived the Malfoy heir as weak, all hell would likely break loose.  
  
The first problem was finding out where to find the Headmaster during the holidays. Draco was surprised to find that Dumbledore very seldom left Hogwarts, even during the summer. That at least made it easy. "Headmaster's office, Hogwarts," Draco cried, throwing a handful of Floo Powder into the fire.  
  
He found himself in one of the most interesting places he had yet seen outside of Knockturn Alley. There were all sorts of instruments and books that Draco had thought long gone from the face of the Earth, along with an actual phoenix sitting on a perch just beside the Headmaster's chair.  
  
"Good morning Mr. Malfoy. What brings you here?" Dumbledore's voice issued from the top of the stairs. He peered over his half-moon glasses at Draco as if to interrogate the boy simply by looking at him. Draco suppressed a sneer. This man claimed to be better than Voldemort and yet he used the same tactics when speaking to people.  
  
"Something of a problem actually, sir." He looked around for a second. "Is this room secured?" Dumbledore nodded. "I need to speak to you in your capacity as the Head of the Order of the Phoenix. I have a Death Eater in my dungeon at the moment. I would like your council on what to do with him."  
  
"You are not handing him over to the Ministry?"  
  
"Quite frankly sir, after last year, I have no reason to trust the Ministry. I might remind you that through their lack of security measures my father-"He stopped just short of telling an outright lie, letting his mind go blank as if with strong emotion. He did not want to lie to Dumbledore, but it was not time for him to know the truth yet either. "Well, I don't need to remind you. And as I do not agree with my father's allegiances, I have one alternative."  
  
Dumbledore wore a thoughtful look. He had not expected this twist; if Draco Malfoy was now siding with the Order, it put a whole new spin on things. If his father had been dangerous, Draco could be useful.  
  
"In that case I may be able to aid you. You will have to allow two Order members inside the Manor, you realize."  
  
"As long as they do not search anywhere but the dungeons that's fine," Draco replied. "When can I expect them?"  
  
"As soon as I can find a couple of volunteers. Thank you, Mr. Malfoy."  
  
"My pleasure. Good day sir." With that he stepped back through the flames. 


	8. Disease Beaten

Disclaimer: I wish I owned all this. I don't. I only own the plotline and any new characters you see.  
  
Lucius came to slowly. He looked around for a total of three minutes before he knew where he was. He was in his own bed at the Manor with Peveral leaning over him anxiously. It took another three minutes before he remembered why Peveral was there. He had had the smallpox; he moaned softly. The fever might have broken but the pain of the blisters had not gone away, nor had the aching weariness that had signaled the onset of the disease.  
  
"How long?" he asked slowly, speaking through dry lips.  
  
"One month," Peveral replied. "You're lucky to be alive." Lucius frowned. Hadn't he been in Azkaban prior to this? How then had he arrived here?  
  
"How -" he started to ask, then he remembered. The Death Eaters had attacked Azkaban and in the confusion Draco and Narcissa had removed him from the prison. That still didn't explain why the Ministry hadn't come calling yet. They would have noticed the absence of an important prisoner and been on the alert. It did not make sense that he should still be here.  
  
"Rest, my Lord. You've just gotten through a nasty disease. You need to sleep as much as possible over the next few days," Peveral told him. Lucius nodded and sank back against the pillows. He had no intention of sleeping though; he had too many problems to consider. First off he was now a fugitive from both the Ministry and the Dark Lord. The former was not so bad; the latter was bad, worse than bad. Voldemort had many assassins he could dispatch and Lucius did not want to come up against one of them unless he absolutely had to. Then there was the fact that he was more than likely going to be scarred from the smallpox. He shuddered to think what he must look like at the moment. He ran a hand over his face and grimaced. He could tell he had a bad case of five o'clock shadow, not to mention the crusted over blisters that had formed.  
  
"Don't pick at them, you'll only make them scar worse," Peveral chided. Lucius said nothing, just shrugged and closed his eyes.  
  
There was a knock at the door a moment later. "Come in," Peveral called. Draco entered the room.  
  
"How is he?" he asked.  
  
"He is fine," Lucius replied from the bed. Draco jumped; Lucius's voice was scratchy and he had not expected his father to be awake.  
  
"Father, I'm sorry, I didn't know. How are you?"  
  
"Alive, which will do for now."  
  
"I came to tell you that they're coming to get Avery today so you need to be quiet. I can only pass off a certain amount of noise as house elves," Draco told them. Lucius's eyes narrowed.  
  
"What is Avery doing here and who is coming to get him?" Draco flinched ever so slightly. He did not want to tell Lucius what he had done, especially not right now.  
  
"Avery came to carry out the Dark Lord's death sentence here. I have engaged certain people to come and get him." Lucius stared at him for a long moment.  
  
"You've gone to the Order haven't you?" he asked softly.  
  
"Yes." Lucius frowned thoughtfully. Under other circumstances he may have been angry. Right now though, he could not argue with his son's logic.  
  
"We can talk later. Right now I have to go," Draco said, encouraged by his father's lack of anger. Lucius nodded and Draco left.  
  
********************************************************************8 LauraMalfoy and George Granger - Thank you so much, I really appreciate reviews like yours. I'm glad you like my story! 


	9. Retrieval

Disclaimer still applies  
  
Minerva McGonagall stood outside the perimeter of Malfoy Manor waiting for the young Lord of the Manor to let her in. She shook her head. She still couldn't believe that the young snot she dealt with in Transfiguration was the new Lord. She had even more trouble believing that he of all people would turn to the Order for assistance. If she didn't know better she would say that Lucius Malfoy had masterminded this one. It smacked of his smooth influence. And for all she knew he may have. She would not have put it past Lucius to foresee his own murder and leave a workable plan for his son to execute afterward. Ah well. Whatever had happened, it was time to get her mind back to the situation at hand rather than ruminating on Malfoy cunning.  
  
She turned her gaze to her partner. He was a good man in a fight, but she was not sure that Dawlish understood the subtle politics about to be executed in the course of this assignment. The Malfoys, like all Slytherin families, observed a strict social decorum and ambiguous moral code. If the exact phrases were not said at exactly the right time, it was considered an insult, and any hint of weakness was pounced upon. She sent out a silent prayer. "Please don't let him screw this one up."  
  
The gates swung open silently. Draco Malfoy stood waiting for them, a neutral expression on his face. "Good morning Professor McGonagall, Mr. Dawlish. Please come in."  
  
"Good morning Mr. Malfoy," Dawlish started to say. McGonagall shot him a look that would have wilted flowers to silence him and nodded to Draco. She followed the young Lord onto the property, clearly expecting Dawlish to follow her.  
  
Draco quickly adjusted his thinking to accommodate Professor McGonagall into his plans. He had expected Dumbledore to send someone less competent, someone Draco could conceivably have intimidated just by his status and power. McGonagall was the exact antithesis of that, a formidable witch and a political player in her own right. She would not be so easily led down the garden path about affairs at the Malfoy residence. Draco would have to keep a strict watch on both her and the bumbling Dawlish to ensure that neither of them noticed anything untoward. And Narcissa would have to be kept out of the picture so that the near- legendary animosity between the Transfiguration professor and the Slytherin high class Lady would not be given a chance to flare.  
  
They reached the Manor in a few minutes time. McGonagall stepped inside and looked around. She had been to Malfoy Manor only once before and the memories of the encounter had wiped out any recollection of the appearance of the place. It was opulent, filled with all the old grace and elegance. The floors and walls were a light stone; the stairway swept upwards to the upper halls. To the right was a ballroom and the entrance to the dungeons. To the left was a small door, no doubt leading to the kitchens and the servants' quarters. The reception hall that they now stood in was light and airy with a high ceiling and a collection of family portraits. The foremost of these was of Lucius Malfoy. McGonagall repressed a shiver. The artist had captured his subject exactly on the canvas; Lucius's superciliousness, pride, and cunning stood out in every detail. Long blond hair rested perfectly, not a hair out of place and cool, calculating grey eyes regarded them with scorn. The portrait only glared, apparently too irate for words at the presence of intruders in the Manor.  
  
Draco's voice broke her out of her reverie. "This way please. Do not stray; it is easy to get lost in these dungeons." With that he opened the door to the dungeons, motioning for McGonagall to lead the way. He waited for Dawlish to follow before coming himself.  
  
The dungeons were nothing short of depressing. The darkness seemed oppressive somehow and the sound of dripping water and creaking metal did nothing to help. Draco led the way down the torch-lit passages with total confidence. Dawlish looked somewhat frightened; McGonagall had pasted a neutral expression on her face. She would not admit to a Malfoy, even a teenage one, that she abhorred such places. Finally they stopped.  
  
"He is in there. You may want to stun him; he's been rather aggressive during the past few weeks," Draco said quietly. He put an old key in the lock, gesturing with one hand when McGonagall could not see him. He had enchanted this door, protected by the magics of the Manor from the Ministry, and he did not want Dawlish to return to the Minister with a report that the Malfoys were breaking the Decree for the Restriction of Underage Wizardry. He stepped aside.  
  
Avery stared balefully at his captor from the back wall of the cell. He had apparently given up on the idea of getting out and now seemed resigned to his fate. At any rate he offered no resistance to McGonagall and Dawlish as they released the Death Eater from his bonds and escorted him out of the cell and then out of the dungeons.  
  
Draco saw them out the door. "I will see you at Hogwarts Mr. Malfoy," McGonagall said coolly.  
  
"Good day Professor. Give Professor Dumbledore my thanks." McGonagall turned but then seemed to stop.  
  
"Oh, and Mr. Malfoy?"  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"My sympathies for the loss of your father. Good day." With that she turned and followed Dawlish out the door, their prisoner between them. 


	10. Problems and Pockmarks

Disclaimer: Once again, I am not J.K. Rowling  
  
Three days passed before Peveral left. Lucius continued to improve after the fever broke and the Healer felt safe in leaving the Malfoy Lord to recover on his own. He left, however, under the influence of a blood oath, one that was well nigh unbreakable, stronger than any truth potion or torture technique. He would say nothing to anyone of his activities for the last three weeks lest he die a swift, horrible death.  
  
Lucius himself was infuriated at the rate of his recovery. Three days had passed and it was still tiring to sit up and talk to anyone for more than half an hour, much less get up. Draco and Narcissa did their best to keep Lucius from wearing himself out, well aware that it would take a long while for him to recover fully from the disease that had held him bed-ridden and delirious for nearly a month. He was left to ponder the possibilities of the situation he now found himself in.  
  
The Order had been moderately satisfied by Draco's apparent sympathy for their cause, as had the Ministry. Avery had turned out to be somewhat useful for both parties as he had apparently been privy to several important pieces of information. Suspicions had been allayed about the Malfoys, keeping the Manor quiet and unwatched, for which Draco and Lucius were both profoundly grateful. It was left, then, how to break it to Dumbledore that Lucius was not, in fact, dead, and when to tell him.  
  
It was well known that Lucius had been a high ranking Death Eater before his capture. If the Order could manage to overlook the stigma attached to that little fact, Lucius could prove to be very useful to them. If he proved to be useful enough, they might just overlook the fact that Draco had had to murder someone to get his father out of Azkaban.  
  
Lucius sighed frustratedly. He appreciated the lengths Draco had gone to in order to get him out of the prison and back home; he simply wished that there wasn't the fact of that extra body to explain away. He had had a long talk with his son after the retrieval of Avery, mostly to find out how it was that the Ministry had not noticed him missing. Draco had explained it glibly, gliding smoothly over the obvious replacement for one body: another body. "And maybe if he could explain it to me that smoothly I'll be able to explain it to Dumbledore that easily," Lucius muttered doubtfully, an expression of distaste crossing his face. He didn't like the idea of joining with the Order but it beat going back to Voldemort with a sign on his back that said "murder me please".  
  
There was also the problem of Draco's return to school to contend with. In a few weeks time, Draco would be returning to Hogwarts. That would be all well and good if over the summer he hadn't supposedly lost his father and been not-so-supposedly declared an outcast by the Dark Lord. To be an outcast in Slytherin House in the middle of the night was...well, it wasn't a good position to be in. There were all sorts of nasty hexes that could be put on a person's sheets and equally nasty things that could be put into the food in the morning. Lucius was quite frankly worried for his son.  
  
It was not until a week later that Lucius finally saw the effects of the disease on his face. It was probably the very first time that the mirror had a grimace in its voice when it spoke to a Malfoy. His face was thin and pale from the many weeks spent with little or no light lest it harm his eyes. Smallpox had been known to cause blindness in some cases; Lucius's thankfully was not one of them.  
  
The scars were not as bad as they might have been. They were for the most part small, scattered pits that could barely be seen at a distance and merely spoke to the fact that Lucius had indeed had smallpox. No, it was his magic that Lucius was most concerned about.  
  
The disease had sapped his physical strength to the point that he nearly died. But along with his physical strength, his magical strength had ebbed. He could feel it deep down; a sense that the core of his magic was depleted. Like his physical strength, it would take time to regain, time that he didn't have. He would need to make his move toward the Order as soon as possible, before Voldemort realized that his connection to Lucius was still functioning rather than dead as it should have been.  
  
Lucius smiled grimly. The Death Eaters who had tried to kill him would pay the penalty for failure; he had no doubt of that. Voldemort did not take kindly to being thwarted. It was some small consolation for the mess he now found himself in.  
  
How far had his magic been depleted? Tentatively he pushed against the barriers, searching for the old connections he had been holding before Azkaban and one old connection in particular, one that dated beyond Azkaban, from before Draco was even born.  
  
Severus Snape had once been one of Lucius's trusted companions. They had fought together, talked together, joined Voldemort at the same time and for many of the same reasons. Severus was in fact Draco's godfather. During the last years of the war, they had set up this connection so that one would know if the other needed help. This connection was very "dusty" though; it hadn't been used since the last time that they had spoken, right before Severus's trial some 15 years before. That was when Lucius had realized that Severus was a spy. And while he had not turned him in, he had stopped speaking to him. Lucius could just barely feel that connection at the edges of his consciousness. He had never let it go for some reason, perhaps feeling that it could still be useful. Now, his belief may have been justified. If he could reach through that bond to Severus, it would be a way to... no; the connection was still too weak. It was intact, but virtually unusable until Lucius had fully recovered. Using a bond of that nature took a substantial amount of energy.  
  
At Hogwarts, Snape felt something at the edge of his mind, brushing against him. It was strange, but he could almost feel something through... but no, that was impossible. Lucius was dead. Dismissing it as wishful thinking, he shook his head and returned to his work.  
  
Whew, another chapter done! And before anyone says anything, no this is not going to be slashy. Lucius and Snape were once as close as Sirius and James, so naturally Snape's betrayal of Voldemort would have caused some issues between these two friends. But anyway, please review, even if it's just to tell me to make the chapters longer or something. 


	11. Allies

Disclaimer: ok, I think we all know this isn't mine by now  
  
Draco returned to Hogwarts three weeks later. He left Malfoy Manor by Portkey as usual; it was too inconvenient to travel all the way to London from Wiltshire by carriage. He had increased the wards on the Manor as best he could, but he knew that even that would not be sufficient if the Dark Lord were to come to the Manor while Draco was away. Draco knew that Lucius was still too weak to defend the Manor, and his mother was not overly magically strong in the first place. She had a strong will and a deep loyalty to her husband and son, but she could not hold the wards on her own. For that matter she probably could not take them in the first place, as some of them were solely dependant upon Malfoy blood and Malfoy power. As of now, Draco was the only thing standing between his family and the Dark Lord.  
  
He arrived at King's Cross and found himself an empty compartment near the end of the train, still preoccupied by his worries. He knew that his Housemates would not side with him for any money, so he was alone. That meant he had to skip the feast if he could and... the door opened suddenly. Draco looked up to find Padma Patil standing in the doorway looking somewhat embarrassed. "Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't- I mean- I thought this one was empty. I'll-"Draco shook his head.  
  
"Sit down, I don't bite," he said. Padma was a Ravenclaw; she wouldn't be loud nor would she be likely to ask inconvenient questions. He could accept her presence with indifference. She sat down uneasily, closing the door behind her.  
  
"I'm sorry about your father," she offered quietly. "I heard what happened." Draco started slightly; he had not expected sympathy from anyone. This was a surprise.  
  
"It had to happen eventually I suppose," he replied with a shrug. "Thanks all the same." She looked uncomfortable.  
  
"Will you be playing Quidditch this year?" she asked after a few moments.  
  
Draco smiled grimly. "Probably not. The Quidditch pitch is a wonderful place for those convenient accidents to happen." Padma's face contorted into a confused expression.  
  
"I don't understand."  
  
"My father was declared outcast before he was murdered. It carries a death sentence for the entire family," Draco explained shortly. Padma looked horrified.  
  
"I had no idea. I – well, if you need something, give me a yell. No one deserves that."  
  
Now Draco really did stare at her. "Do you have a death wish?" he managed to ask. "We're not talking about just helping me out of a scrape or providing moral support. We're talking about people actively trying to get me killed here! They won't care whether you're Ravenclaw or Slytherin, they'll kill you right along with me if they can." Padma nodded.  
  
"I know. I also know that they won't be expecting this and that I don't care who you are, you need allies. How long do you think you're going to last by yourself?" Draco looked at her intently.  
  
"And how will your precious sister respond to this?"  
  
Padma raised an eyebrow. "She won't care because she won't know. Parvati is too busy with her boys and divination to bother about what I do."  
  
"You aren't?"  
  
"I live in the real world Malfoy. See you at school." The train started to slow; she stood and left, leaving Draco to stare after her in utter amazement. 


	12. Discovered

Draco skipped the feast that night for two reasons. The first and most important was to keep his schoolmates from doing anything to his luggage or bed while he was not there. The second was to avoid Professors Dumbledore and Snape. He had forgotten just how piercing Snape's gaze could be and one glance in the man's direction had been enough to remind Draco that the Headmaster was not the only Legilimens in the school. It was not time yet although Snape might already suspect something, gifted as he was at seeing through lies even without Legilimency.  
  
Snape was in fact watching Draco Malfoy very closely. Something was bothering the boy, that much was obvious, and it was not the danger he faced just by coming here. No, there was something beyond that. His mother alone in the Manor perhaps? Yes, Snape decided, that might be it. Draco had always been close to his mother, judging by the packages that arrived virtually every day for the past five years. But why then did Draco refuse to look Snape in the eye for more than a few seconds lately? He was hiding something.  
  
A month passed. Draco was strangely left alone, perhaps because of the silent vigil that all of the teachers seemed to be keeping on him. No one dared interfere with the young Malfoy with McGonagall breathing down their necks. All the same, it was a trying year. There was no welcome from anyone, anywhere. He did not talk to anyone for what seemed like weeks. The other Slytherins conspicuously gave him the cold shoulder; he would find no support there.  
  
"Draco." The call came from between the stacks in the library, soft so as not to attract attention. Draco looked up to find Padma Patil looking at him. "Are you alright?" He shrugged indifferently.  
  
"I'm alive," he replied, "although I think my voice is about to leave me for someone who uses it more often."  
  
Padma's lips twitched. She had formed a tentative alliance and even friendship with Malfoy in the past month. He was a very secretive sort of person; he did not give out details unless absolutely necessary and occasionally cracked jokes. He was still something of an enigma, but he was not the spoilt brat that everyone seemed to think he was either. He had gotten away with that only so long as he ruled his Housemates by virtue of his father's power. He could not afford that now so...  
  
"Got anything planned for today?" she asked.  
  
"No, why?"  
  
"There's a Hogsmeade visit. No point in giving yourself prison pallor is there?" Draco winced slightly; Padma flushed. "Sorry. Poor choice of words there maybe. But anyway, you should get out of here sometimes. You're starting to frown like Snape." Draco rolled his eyes.  
  
"Gods forbid. Alright, just so long as we're back before dinnertime."  
  
Padma smiled and they left the library to join the queue of students waiting to leave the castle.  
  
Lucius was woken that night by the Mark's burning. He started to press a hand against it as usual, whispering an expletive and getting up to wait out the pain. He was startled to feel a thick liquid trickling down his arm. He released the arm and looked at the Mark; it was cracked open and bleeding profusely. There was a foul odor and a greenish black shadow hovered for a moment before dissipating. The Mark slowly began to disintegrate. Lucius could feel the darkness growing at the edges of his vision and the blood flow increase; he realized with a sinking feeling that the Mark had been located right above a vein. His last thought before he passed out from blood loss was a cry to the one person who could hear him. The Dark Lord had found his missing deputy.  
  
***************************************** Ooh, a cliffhanger. Will he live or die? And now is when I need feedback from my readers. Should this be a Draco/Padma fic or shouldn't it? I need some opinions on this one people. So please review and tell me what you think. 


	13. Midnight Emergency

Disclaimer: ah, why bother. We all know this isn't J.K. Rowling here.  
  
Snape was in his office when the call came. It was nearly black save for a few candles but he did not notice. The cold had long since failed to have any effect upon him. He had been brewing a particularly fiddly potion; it needed his full attention. But something did alert him just in time to hear his name being called in a voice that was all too familiar. He stood up straight, sucking his breath in sharply when he realized who it had been. Lucius? But it was impossible. He was.... unless.....  
  
Everything came into sharp focus in that instant. The pieces of the puzzle fell together neatly. That was what Draco had been hiding all this time! He had not imagined it the other day when he felt that whisper during class; Lucius Malfoy was very much alive and calling for his aid! He nearly dropped the potion ingredients in his rush toward the dormitories. He would need Draco for this.  
  
He reached the Slytherin dormitories faster than even he would have believed possible. The gargoyle took one look at the Head of House and moved aside, judging that any delay would prove fatal at this point. Snape moved past it without even stopping. Time was precious.  
  
Draco met his professor in the Common Room. His face, like Snape's, was worried, anxious. He had sensed early on that something was not right, but he could not put his finger on it. Now, though, he knew.  
  
"He's alive isn't he." It was a statement, not a question. Snape knew without the slightest doubt. Draco nodded numbly.  
  
"I don't even want to know right now. He's in danger of some sort," Snape said sharply. Draco's eyes narrowed; his gaze was inquiring. He had, for a moment, the look of his father. "I'll explain how I know later. Right now we must hurry." Draco nodded reluctantly.  
  
"How? I've put every ward known to wizard-kind – "  
  
"Save one against the blood bonded. This will work only with both of us, so I'll need you to help me. Get hold of the wards on the Manor. Will yourself back and I'll come with you."  
  
"But won't the Ministry – "  
  
"To Hell with the Ministry. They can't prove a thing. Just do it." Draco nodded and reached out. A second later, they were whirling round and round in a haze of color and sound and darkness. The feeling was similar to that of a Portkey, except that Draco had the uncomfortable feeling that he was dragging something behind him, like a chain with a weighted ball at the end. He was whirling, whirling, feeling as though he was going to be sick... and then everything stopped with a thump as both he and Snape landed on the steps of Malfoy Manor.  
  
Snape was already on his feet and in the Manor before Draco had even taken a breath. He ignored completely the shrieks of the portraits, knowing full well what he might find if he did not hurry. He practically flew up the steps, taking them two at a time and running through the dark hallway, impervious to the menace of the Manor. It was eerily silent; Narcissa had not yet realized her husband's peril. Normally they would have been sleeping in the same room, but until Lucius was completely recovered from the pox, Narcissa had moved into a spare bedroom.  
  
Snape reached the master bedroom and found the door locked. He growled in frustration. "Alohomora!" he cried. The door sprang open to reveal Lucius's heavily bleeding form slumped to the ground against the side of the bed. Snape rushed in.  
  
Draco was close behind him. He, however, had run into his mother in the hall and was now in the process of trying to calm her even as they rushed toward his father. He explained the situation hurriedly as they entered the room and found Snape kneeling on the floor, trying to ascertain where the bleeding was coming from. He looked up when Draco came in. "Draco, I'm going to need some things. In the dungeons, your father's study or laboratory, do you have-" He didn't have to finish his sentence; Draco was already moving.  
  
"I know what you need," he said, hurrying out and pounding down the stairs, shooing house-elves out of the way and wrenching open the dungeon door. He took a right turn, a left, and found himself in front of his father's potions storage room. He opened the door with a fast charm, lit his wand, and quickly grabbed a blood restorative, wound cleanser, and healing salve. He slammed the door shut behind him and ran back up the stairs.  
  
He hurried into the room and practically threw the potions at Snape. Snape had found the problem and at least closed the wound as best he could (he was not, after all, a Healer or a mediwizard). Lucius had not stirred, although he was breathing, if rather weakly. Snape issued crisp orders; Draco followed them without question. He was rewarded when some of the color returned to his father's face and his breathing became more regular. At last, after what seemed like hours, Snape sat back with a sigh that was halfway between relief and weariness. He looked at Lucius for a long moment before turning to Draco, picking him apart with those fathomless black eyes.  
  
"Now, Mr. Malfoy, I believe you have a great deal of explaining to do." 


	14. Explanations

I am really sorry that it took this long but I have had a bad case of life coming up and smacking me on the face lately as well as a computer crash. But I finally got everything semi-straightened out so here it is.  
  
Snape stared off into space for a moment, trying to take in all that Draco and Narcissa had just told him. It was almost too great a deception to be believed. That anyone could continue such an elaborate lie for so long....... but if there was anyone that could do it, it was the Malfoys. "What were your plans from here on in?" he asked finally.  
  
Draco repressed a sigh of relief. He had not been sure how Snape would react to this entire incredible tale, nor where his loyalties would ultimately lie. He knew that Snape and his father had been and possibly still were good friends but Dumbledore provided a strong and sometimes unreasonable influence on a man's actions.  
  
"Obviously there was to be no action until Father was well again. After that I would assume that he intended to turn to the Order. He hardly has any choice in the matter now." Snape nodded, regarding his old friend thoughtfully. He could, conceivably, speak for Lucius to Dumbledore, and from there things could progress as they would. At any rate he certainly wasn't going to do anything until the Malfoy Lord had recovered sufficiently from this latest injury.  
  
"You certainly don't believe in doing things the easy way, do you?" he murmured, speaking to Draco.  
  
"Like father like son," a groggy voice said from behind them. Lucius sat up with a grimace and looked around him. "What happened?"  
  
"Once again, Lucius, you nearly succeeded in getting yourself killed," Snape replied dryly. "The Dark Lord apparently decided that you were a menace. If I hadn't heard you I am quite sure you would have bled to death on this floor by morning." Lucius raised one eyebrow in seeming surprise. His eyes caught sight of his left arm, covered in dried blood that seemed to have flowed from the spot on his arm where the Dark Mark used to be. Hold on. Where the Dark Mark used to be?  
  
Lucius did a double take. Yes, it was true. The Mark was gone. The removal had nearly killed him but it was as if it had never been, so smooth was the area where the brand had been. A grin started to grow at the edges of his mouth. He was free!  
  
Snape scowled. "Yes, it is gone," he said sourly, thinking of his own arm which still smarted from the previous calling. The Dark Lord had indeed called his servants tonight. Snape was no longer among their ranks, settling for the safer option of having a contact inside the circle. He was as good as dead if he showed his face in Knockturn Alley now.  
  
Something else struck Lucius almost immediately. If he had been able to call to Snape, it meant that his magical talent was in full working order again. That meant a highly unpleasant trip to Dumbledore's office. Ah well. It had to happen sometime he knew. Might as well do it now and get it over with. But speaking of calling to Snape....... "Thank you, Severus. I owe you one for this," Lucius said quietly to his old friend. Snape raised one eyebrow.  
  
"Payment for a debt owed. You would have and did do the same for me at one time." He waved the matter away. "Tomorrow is when you will owe me one, old friend. I will see you at say, 10:00 tomorrow morning?" Lucius nodded. He stood up a little weakly and leaned against the bed post for support. "In the mean time I should get some sleep if I were you," Snape advised. "Draco, we should be going. Narcissa, Lucius," he said, "if I may? Goodnight, or rather good morning." He and Draco disappeared through the fireplace in a few seconds with two cries of "Hogwarts, Professor Snape's office! and Slytherin Common Room!"  
  
The next morning dawned crisp and clear. The October winds seemed to have died down for a bit, making the atmosphere one of silence and, for Lucius Malfoy, even a little nervousness. He was not at all sure how the aged Headmaster of Hogwarts and Head of the Order of the Phoenix was going to take this. He would simply have to hope for the best and expect the worst he decided as he left his anxious wife via the Floo.  
  
He met Snape in the Potions Master's office. Snape gave him a half reassuring, half here-goes-nothing glance before popping his head through the green flames. "Albus, could you please come down here for a moment? We have a bit of a situation." A moment later, Dumbledore was whirling in the fireplace. He got out, brushed himself off, and turned to Snape.  
  
"Ah, Severus, you wished me to – Lucius Augustus Malfoy, please explain your presence here this instant!"  
  
Here it is, another chapter. Please please please review this as I really do appreciate your feedback. I will try to get chapter 15 up in a lot shorter time period than I did this one but I do need reviews. and once again, should this or should this not be a Draco/Padma fic? 


	15. The Trouble with Floo Powder

Ok, here goes. Writer's block, move aside.  
  
Draco tumbled through the fireplace and out onto the floor. For some reason it hurt more than it should have; he stood up and looked around with a sinking feeling in his stomach. Wherever this was, it was definitely not the Slytherin Common Room at Hogwarts. This place was richly furnished, with all the grace and charm that Draco would have expected of an old Slytherin mansion, perhaps even of Malfoy Manor. The room, however, smelled faintly of tobacco smoke and old paper, dispelling that idea. He discreetly moved over to the sole window and cautiously looked out. Knockturn Alley turned and twisted below him, filled with all the normal shady characters and dubious looking store fronts. "Damn," he whispered. He looked back at the fireplace; no Floo powder was to be found, and probably not anymore in the whole place than in this room. He would have to find his way back to Diagon Alley somehow, provided that he could get out of this place.  
  
He listened at the door for a long moment before even touching the handle. His wand was out, ready for any eventuality, and the very silence of the house was unnerving. He finally determined however that it was a normal silence born of a lack of people, not a there's-someone-waiting-for- you silence. He twisted the doorknob and opened the door, looking both ways down the hallway before he moved out and down the staircase (he was apparently on the second floor). There were tables and chairs, all of them pushed out away from the tables as if waiting for their owners to return any minute in what looked like the taproom. A bar then, or a club, someplace where people could meet to talk or to attempt to drown their sorrows in fine brandy. The smell of tobacco smoke was stronger down here, certainly. Draco shook his head and looked out the window one final time before pulling the hood of his cloak up and discreetly leaving through a side entrance. He observed the name of the pub, The Slytherin Common Room. He would have to remember to include the word Hogwarts when next he wanted to go by Floo powder. The assorted Dark Arts dealers and all the other shady occupants of Knockturn Alley stared at him for a moment; he adopted a dangerous glare that he had gotten from Snape and continued down the street, desperately hoping that he was headed the right way. He could not afford to appear uncertain here. They shrank away, aware that this was not someone they could scare.  
  
Back at Hogwarts, Dumbledore had recovered quickly from the initial shock of seeing Lucius Malfoy quite well and standing in his school. They were now sitting in Snape's office, which had been imperturbed and locked as securely as was humanly possible. Dumbledore surveyed Lucius gravely overtop of his glasses, having just heard what had truly happened the day of the break-in at Azkaban.  
  
"You realize of course that if the Ministry ever finds out what Draco has done that the boy could be put into Azkaban for life?"  
  
"I take full responsibility for that," Lucius replied coolly. "What he did he did for me and because of me."  
  
"He has an admirable and perhaps dangerous loyalty to you," Dumbledore replied, his emotions warring with each other for dominance. He needed this man, a trusted advisor to the Dark Lord at one time who would know, perhaps best of any of them, how the man's mind worked and how he would plan. On the other hand, he was not known for his trustworthiness, or for his loyalty. Lucius Malfoy had, like all the members of his family, been sitting on the political fence for many years and gone with whoever had been winning, playing the game for so long that it was practically life's blood. But the advantages.......... "Go on," Dumbledore sighed, knowing that he had not heard all there was as yet. Lucius nodded and continued.  
  
Padma Patil was getting worried. She had not seen Draco Malfoy since the night before, highly unusual. And when he did not show up at lunch, she began to wonder. None of the Slytherins seemed to be at all bothered this morning, but then most of them never did, no matter what happened, if Draco's manner was anything to judge by. Still, it was odd. He had many enemies, both inside and outside his House. Could one of them have finally cornered him in a dark corridor? That would be a Slytherin thing to do; all the worse as some of them were bent on seeing him dead she knew. A frown creased her forehead and she headed down the hallway to the dungeons. She would tell Professor Snape; it did not pay to take chances.  
  
Lucius finished his recounting of events since his imprisonment in June and waited. Dumbledore sat for a moment, deep in contemplation. "Why are you here?" he asked finally, looking Lucius in the eye, blue meeting grey. "You could have fled the country, left this war and all of your troubles far behind you. Why did you stay?"  
  
Lucius hesitated only a second before answering. "My ancestors would roll in their graves if I ran like a coward from, as you put it, "all of my troubles". And...... I have a family, Dumbledore." Dumbledore continued to stare intensely for a moment before sitting back.  
  
"Very well. You will help the Order, and in return I will do my best to see that you are given a fair trial at the end of this war, with whatever service you provide taken into ample consideration. But one toe out of line, one misstep, and I will deliver you personally to the Ministry. Am I understood?"  
  
"Perfectly."  
  
There was a knock at the door. Snape stood, strode toward the door, and opened it a crack after unlocking it. "Yes?"  
  
"Professor.... I'm not sure how to put this but..... I think Draco is in trouble."  
  
"What?!"  
  
"I haven't seen him all day and he hasn't been to classes. I know that he's not- that he has-" Padma was swept out of the way as Snape strode past her, headed straight for the Slytherin Common Room. She followed; Lucius stood, tense, two lines appearing between his eyes. Snape returned a few moments later.  
  
"He's not in the Common Room and he's not in any of the classes, nor the library. I think we'd better organize a search." 


	16. Double Double Toil and Trouble

I am so, so, so sorry for waiting this long to update. I am not letting this fall into the abandoned fic category, and I really did not intend to take so long, but this got abandoned in the face of a wild plot bunny for something else and a great deal of end-of-term work. But here it is at last, and a through a nasty case of writer's block too.  
  
Lucius Malfoy paced restlessly back and forth over the stone floor, a deep frown etched upon his features. It had been fifteen minutes since Snape had entered the room and announced that Draco was not to be found in any of his normal haunts and called a search together, of necessity discreet and therefore agonizingly slow. He knew that Draco was probably not in the castle and therefore in danger, but the search had to be conducted to be sure. And if it took too long... Lucius didn't dare think about what might happen if Voldemort got hold of the Malfoy heir.  
  
"Lucius, please, sit down. They will find him, either here or wherever he has gone to," Dumbledore said calmly.  
  
"Not until he has been found," Lucius snapped, resuming his pacing. He stopped for a moment, staring out the small window. He felt positively caged, as though he should be out doing something, not just stand here waiting to hear what he already knew. He had gone through this once before; his lack of action then had haunted him for years afterward. He could not simply stand back again and let it happen a second time.  
  
/Flashback/ He was standing at the window of Snape Hall, staring out over the Devonshire moors as if he could pierce the very hillsides and see his missing sister. Evelyn had disappeared the night before in the middle of a violent thunderstorm on the moors; the search for her had been going since early this morning, and yet there was still no sign nor even a trace of what should have been a clear magical trail to the missing girl. Evelyn was younger than he by four years, and he simply could not believe that she was gone just like that. It was impossible! She knew better than to go for a walk on her own out there! It just didn't make sense! And yet that was exactly what had happened. He sighed and resumed his pacing.... /  
  
Lucius shook his head to clear it of the unwanted memory. He had no need for thoughts of the past to cloud his mind, not now. Draco was more than capable of taking care of himself for a few hours, and before that much time had passed Lucius would be searching for him himself, regardless of anything Dumbledore or even Snape might say. It took a Slytherin to track a Slytherin, and, more specifically, it took a Malfoy to track a Malfoy. He knew how Draco's mind worked; he would have to look for him himself if he wanted to see the boy alive. He stopped pacing, his mind made up. There was no point in waiting for the search to end; he was going.  
  
"Lucius, please, sit down! We cannot do anything without a plan, and if you start off for anywhere without some form of backup I will stun you where you stand!" Dumbledore said as Lucius headed for the fireplace. Lucius turned angrily.  
  
"Tell me Dumbledore, did you wish to find Draco alive, or were you planning on waiting until a dead body appears at the castle borders? In case you had forgotten, Draco has as large a price on his head as I do by virtue of being my son. I for one do not wish to wait that long." Lucius was aware that he was being painfully Gryffindoric at the moment, but for once in his life he simply did not care. His life was slowly coming apart at the seams, and this was the last straw. And if Dumbledore thought he was going to stop him, he had another thought coming.  
  
"I said if you went without backup. This will take some delicate work. You cannot risk a trip down Knockturn Alley at this stage of the game without as much caution as humanly possible. If you will sit down, we will discuss our options."  
  
"The options are very simple. I go alone before another minute passes, or you send Severus with me, again within the hour." Snape reentered the room at exactly that moment.  
  
"It is official; he is nowhere in the castle, the grounds, or in Hogsmeade." Lucius threw a triumphant look at Dumbledore, who sighed and motioned with a hand.  
  
"Go. Severus, I will ask you to accompany him and try to find at least one other to assist you." Snape nodded.  
  
"I know of someone." He swept out of the room with Lucius on his heels.   
Draco was nearing the end of Knockturn Alley and still had no clear idea of exactly how he was going to get out unnoticed. He would have to enter at least some of the shops if he did not wish to appear suspicious, and yet most of the shopkeepers would know him on sight as a result of his father's frequent visits to this shady alley. This was no time to falter though; he could not stand in the middle of the street trying to decide his course of action. He surveyed the area from underneath his hood and decided on a small shop he had been in only once before; hopefully it had been long enough since he was last here that they would not remember him. He did not see that eyes watched him further along the alley or that dark shapes detached themselves from the walls to follow him, their white masks glinting in the darkness.   
  
"So you will look for the boy?" Snape was heard to ask through the green flames that roared in the fireplace of his private quarters. He waited a moment and apparently was satisfied with the answer. "Very well," he said. "We'll see you when we get there." There was some reply and Snape emerged smirking. "The board is set; the pieces are moving," he said. "You first." Lucius nodded and stepped into the flames.  
  
"Slytherin Common Room!"   
  
ok, credits first. What Snape says as he comes out of the fireplace is a quote from LOTR: Return of the King that seemed appropriate given the circumstances. Now: oooh, who is Snape's mysterious contact? Be nice and review and I might tell you next chapter. (Actually I already will but I am just using this as a desperate ploy for reviews, being the struggling young writer that I am. I need reviews like Harry needs Chocolate after a Dementor attack. So please?) 


	17. Escape and Regrets

Because I am not in the habit of abandoning fics, I have come back to this in the hopes of finishing it. I realize that this chapter is a little short; however, my muse has wandered off since I began this fic and I simply cannot convince her to concentrate (scatter-brained artists and all that). As usual, none of the characters you recognize from HP are mine.

* * *

Draco did not notice the Death Eaters until he turned to enter the shop. They were a black shadow on the edge of his vision, the white featureless masks being the only thing that caught his eye in the gloom of the alleyway and alerted him to his danger. He stiffened almost imperceptibly, but stiffened nonetheless. There was no way out of this alley from here; to turn around would be suicide, and to enter the shop would trap him in a cramped building where he would have no room to move if he had to fight. And he would go out fighting, not like some tame animal in a cage, that much he knew.

He stepped over the threshold and cast his eye back over his shoulder as much as possible. Better to have things to throw if necessary, rather than back himself into a corner with nowhere to hide.

"Ah, what can I do for - !" The shopkeeper started, his eyes widening when he saw the Malfoy heir. In an instant he had sealed the shop door and was around the counter, dragging Draco by the arm toward a back store room. He was surprisingly strong for an old man, something that Draco noticed as he fought to escape a grip like iron.

"Come this way – oh don't fight with me you young fool, I'm trying to save your life!"

Draco gaped. "Why? What's in it for – "

"You, young Malfoy, must have some of the Old Blood in you somewhere, just like your father, to have the kind of luck you have. Tell him, next time you see him, that House Thurkell's debt is paid." The man wrenched open a trapdoor in the stone floor and shoved Draco down the steps leading into the darkness.

"There are tunnels leading to just about anywhere in this alley. Don't stay in any one place too long and don't head East under any circumstances. Go!" The stone trapdoor was shut with a muffled "thump" and Draco could hear no more.

Nor could he see, he realized suddenly, feeling his way around. The passage was narrow and dampish, made of stone just as the street above it; Draco had the sudden, uncomfortable feeling that he knew what it had once served as. And worst of all, he was not sure if it would be safer to light his wand and know what lay in the darkness ahead of him or to leave it unlit and perhaps avoid anything else that might be lurking in this underside of Knockturn Alley. But Thurkell had said not to go east and Draco had to be able to tell where he was going… "Lumos," he whispered. "Point me." The wand spun around in his hand to point to the North, behind him. With a sigh he headed west and further toward the safety of Diagon Alley.

Lucius and Severus landed in the same dusty room that Draco had found himself in earlier that morning. Lucius looked around for a moment before shaking his head. He did not recognize this place, but then it had been a long time since he and Severus had frequented the gentlemen's clubs in Knockturn Alley. For that matter, it had been a long time since he had even spoken to Severus on a civil basis.

They had been magnificent in their day, Lucius thought wistfully. He had been Voldemort's chief tactician while Severus had been the Inquisitor and Potions Master, a force to be reckoned with in his own right. It had seemed that nothing could stop them…

//Flashback//

"_Severus!" The cry came from a much younger Lucius Malfoy. His hair was tied back and his grey eyes were snapping with excitement and the thrill of the danger. _

"_What?" His friend turned, coolly blasting an Auror out of his way. Snape's eyes were cold behind the white mask he wore._

"_Pull back! We're winning and they're done in there!" Snape nodded, whirled, and stunned another Auror, then disappeared with a pop. Lucius followed shortly._

//End Flashback//

….and then had come Voldemort's defeat. The trials that followed were ugly, with Death Eater accusing Death Eater and all of them attempting to pretend that they had never had anything to do with the war. Lucius had not known of his friend's treachery until the trial. They had argued heatedly shortly after, not to truly speak to each other again for sixteen years.

//Flashback//

"_**You**__" Lucius hissed, advancing on Severus menacingly. Snape stepped back, his wand out and held ready._

"_Not another step, Lucius. One tiny little hint of movement and I'll blast you across the room."_

"_You traitor! You filthy, lying…"_

"_Did your sister mean __nothing__ to you, then?" Severus asked acidly._

"_I trusted you!"_

"_And I testified on your behalf, though you probably didn't know or deserve it."_

"_Mark my words, Severus, one day I will kill you for this!" Lucius swore._

"_That would be a mercy at this stage of the game," Snape replied quietly. "Good day, Lucius." With that he turned and left, and something in what he had said kept Lucius from following._

//End Flashback//

He looked sideways at Snape. They had once been close friends and now there was a gap of fully sixteen years and a wall of mistrust between them. Snape had changed in that time, as had Lucius; the years, however, had not been kind to Severus. He looked tired, Lucius realized, more tired than he had ever seen him. He was far too thin, his shoulders were hunched, and somehow his stance had lost any trace of pride he might have felt for anything. It was as though someone had taken Lucius's friend and replaced him with a prematurely aged, half-broken version of the same man.

"Dear Gods, Severus," Lucius murmured, taking in the younger man's condition. "What happened to you?"

Either Severus did not hear or he chose not to answer, for he turned away, his eyes searching the room.

"I doubt he would have stayed here. He would be looking for a way back, somewhere with floo powder," he said finally, heading for the door before anything more could be said between them. Lucius did not speak again, simply followed his former comrade out onto the street.


End file.
